


Samhain

by chewysugar



Series: An Abundance of Equinoxes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Halloween, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Pre-Epilogue, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: On the day when the dead are more present in the lives of the living, Ginny is having a hard time moving on. Fortunately for her, Harry is there to do what he does best--be her hero.





	Samhain

**Author's Note:**

> As ever with anything Harry Potter related that I write, I haven't read Cursed Child, nor will I ever read it, and I also have had limited exposure to all the juicy tidbits on Pottermore.

“Miss Weasley!” Professor McGonagall’s voice shook Ginny like a swarm of bats from a bell tower. “Kindly pay attention for the remainder of the class.”

Ginny stared round. She’d nearly forgotten where she was. Hermione and Luna were all staring at her with various expressions of consternation. Realizing that she was, in fact, in that morning’s Transfiguration class, Ginny offered an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Professor. I was, er, just thinking about the feast tonight is all.”

Professor McGonagall’s grey eyes narrowed behind her square spectacles. “Hm,” she said. “Thank you for imparting that upon the class. If you expended as much energy in class as you do daydreaming about pumpkin pasties, you might emerge with more N.E.W.T’s than you expect.”

Ginny said nothing. She reminded herself that McGonagall’s being an ally in the War hadn’t lessened her severity as a teacher. In fact, she seemed more adamant than ever at ushering those who hadn’t lost their lives in the Battle towards bright and sunny futures. As Headmistress, her duties were many, and Ginny couldn’t fault her for taking to task any student who let their mind wander.

It was lucky that McGonagall wasn’t a legilimens in addition to her other titles. Because Ginny hadn’t been thinking about the Halloween Feast that night at all. On the contrary, her mind, attuned to the lesson on full animal transformations, had slipped when Professor McGonagall had asked the class of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to open their textbooks. Ginny has borrowed a school copy—not that her parents couldn’t afford new books—and when she’d seen the most recent owner, she felt as if death itself had reached through her chest and grasped her heart in cold, bony hands.

The sensation, unpleasant as it had been, had jarred her from the fog she’d been in since waking up that morning. Yet she would have been completely insane to call it welcome.

She looked back down at the textbook, her heart skipping a beat. Quickly glancing to the side, she saw that Luna alone was watching her, eyes big and blue as an ocean rife with understanding and worry. Ginny could practically hear her best friend’s words: are you okay?

Offering a feigned smile that she knew Luna wouldn’t buy for bag of Every Flavour Beans, Ginny once more set to. But she found her mind sliding, pulled from the present into the past. 

For all intents and purposes, Hogwarts had resumed the usual state of things after a summer spent rebuilding. New students arrived at the school, and old students returned to find the corridors as vast, the lessons just as demanding, and magic ebbing through the walls. The only indicator of the Battle was a memorial in the courtyard, and a significantly low number of Seventh Years on the roster.

Yet none of it had mattered to Ginny. For the length of September, she’d wondered just why she had as much vitality an inferi; where her outbursts of irritability and anger came from. Then she had only to pass by certain spots, and the solution would rear its head like a striking viper. The fire that had propelled her for years had twisted into smoke, choking her sense of certainty, clouding her vision, blinding her to things which ought to have made her feel anything whatsoever.

Today had been one of those days. She’d forced herself through it, as she had from the first day of this sleepwalk. Part of her had been content to drift, even though the prospect of the Halloween feast ought to have lifted her spirits even a little. Now, more than any other time, she should have felt as if she were returning home.

A shadow fell across her desk. Once more, Ginny felt as if she’d been pulled from a coffin and into the bright, cold world of the living. Professor McGonagall stood over her, face rigid with annoyance.

Damn. She’d gone and relinquished her attention again. Ginny opened her mouth, not knowing what to say in her defence.

McGonagall’s iron gaze slid to the book open on the table in front of Ginny. The change that came over the headmistress’s face was almost unbelievable. All the cold fire went out of her gaze. Her lips, rigid as the rest of her, slackened into something almost like grief. Ginny almost wish she hadn’t kept her book open, just for the sake of not seeing that stricken look on a woman normally as preserved as stone. She also wished she hadn’t taken a school copy of the textbook in the first place. 

Scrawled along the top of the page that McGonagall had instructed the class to read were four words, written in careless yet legible handwriting—handwriting that Ginny hadn’t seen in months, and never would see again.

_Fred Weasley was here_

McGonagall regained a small fraction of her composure. “Ginny...”

Ginny’s throat tightened painfully. Months of repressed emotion threatened to burst from her. Without another word she slid from her seat and hurtled out of the classroom, tears stinging at her eyes. She burst through the door and ran without aim, hair like fire around her. She nearly collided with a cluster of Fifth Years, who all hollered indignantly at nearly being flattened. But Ginny did not care. She had to escape, had to get away from this place where memories had become ghosts.

She flung herself at a stone banister, her chest heaving. Looking around, she saw a door to a classroom she knew was empty, and hurried through it. Silence surrounded her; emptiness welcomed her like an old friend.

Breathing deeply, Ginny took a seat near the front of the room, and buried her face in her arms. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want things to be normal. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to feel right again. But that lay in the realm of the sunny past. There was nothing here but cold present—days after the dead. She couldn’t have Fred back, ever; nor could she roll her eyes at Colin Creevey and his ridiculous camera, or wonder what Tonks would do with her hair next.

_I never should have come back here_, she thought. She should have done what her brother had and done, and forgone Hogwarts for a future. Or what Harry had done...

Picturing Harry made Ginny’s heart twist in her chest. She wanted more than anything to write to him. But as this was the first week he and Ron were due to start auror training, she didn’t want to bother him. In any case, she realized with a sickening sinking feeling, there was nothing he could do. And that only pained her all the more.

She did not know how much time had passed. She heard the bell for lunch, but did not get up. Footsteps hammered overhead and around, and still Ginny did not stir.

The door to the classroom opened. Looking up, she saw perhaps the only person whose presence she could stand enter the room. Ginny waited until Luna had hopped up onto the desk to speak.

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Oh, just something about the way the door looked,” said Luna airily. She was swinging her legs, as if there was nothing to them being here while the rest of the school teemed around them. But that had always been Luna Lovegood: never one to make something more than it already was. She’d been just another face in the hall in First Year. Ginny had been so lost in the nightmare of Tom Riddle’s grasp that she wouldn’t have noticed had the lead singer of the Weird Sisters been standing in front of her. In Second Year, though, when Ginny had still been recovering from Riddle’s possession, her friendship with Luna had been a beacon from Heaven. Luna had believed every word of Ginny’s story when most girls in their year had sneered at her and accused her of doing it for attention. Ginny found Luna’s unique comfort with who she was almost aspirational, and she loved her dearly.

Ginny sat up. That was something. She still loved her friends and family. Suddenly feeling as if things weren’t so daunting, she said, “Was McGonagall angry?”

“Oh no,” said Luna. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her less angry. She did take that textbook out of the class, though.”

“Hopefully she’ll burn it.”

“I doubt it. I think she’ll keep it in your brother’s memory. You could have too, you know.”

Ginny sighed. “I know. It was just really unexpected today, is all. I’ve had that thing all semester and that was the first time I saw what he’d left on that page.”

Luna looked at her with bright, understanding eyes. “I am sorry, Ginny. You must hate hearing it by now, but—

Ginny compulsively covered her friends hand with her own. “Thank you.” Another thing they now shared—the loss of family.

“I suppose you’re still worried about talking to Harry about all of this?”

“Yes.” Ginny rubbed at her eyes. “It wouldn’t do any good, Luna. He’s just as bad off as I am.”

“But not beyond hope.” Luna smiled to herself. “There’s nothing beyond hope, Ginny. You should realize that today of all days.”

Ginny cocked her head to the side. “Halloween? Why?” To Ginny’s memory, Halloween had only ever marked days of chaos during the last several years. For Harry, it was likely the worst day of his life, given that his parents had been murdered on Halloween night.

“It’s not all candy and costumes,” Luna said. “It means something more.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “The day the veil between worlds is thinnest. Right. I’ve heard it before.”

“Not just that. It’s when you take all the chaos of the year and put it to rest.” She smiled a little. “It was what they did in the old days. It was their New Year—when they gathered the harvest and reflected on all that had lived and died. Not because they wanted to but because they had to. Imagine taking all that with you into the New Year—into the cold nights of winter when you have to do everything you can to survive.”

Another reason Ginny cherished her friendship with Luna—she could be counted on to drop sage moments of knowledge like this. Being close as they were, being privy to these moments made Ginny feel as if she were speaking to an oracle. Of course, to Luna it was just her own thoughts and feelings. But to Ginny and people like her, such things were vital.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Luna went on, “is that maybe it is time to try and keep the ghosts where they belong.”

“I don’t know how.” Her voice cracked. She hated how pitiful she sounded.

Luna smiled. “You’ll figure it out, Ginny. You’re smart like that. Come on. Hermione and I are going down to the village tonight and I’d like to have at least one meal with you before we leave.”

While she’d been given a lot to think on, Ginny didn’t exactly feel better. But she could, as Luna had suggested, at least try. She stood up as Luna slid from the desk. Time to return to the land of the living, even if she didn’t entirely feel like digging up the earth around her.

* * *

Light from hundreds of hovering jack-o-lanterns glowed over golden goblets and plates. A feast the likes of which Ginny hadn’t seen in quite a long time spread along the length of every table in the Great Hall, beckoning like an open door during a night of tricks and treats. Against the indigo sunset along the ceiling, the orange pulse of flames made the Great Hall look resplendent—as golden and ruddy as the fallen leaves peppering the school grounds.

The Hogwarts staff seemed determined to make the feasts this year better than any other. A flock of ravens had been released along with the clouds of black bats; mountains of Hogsmeade candy towered over plates of roast beef dripping in gravy; the sweet smell of golden-brown pumpkin pies brought water to the mouth of every student. Several feet above the splendid meal, the ghosts performed a midair ball, much to the delight of the First Years. Watching their silvery bodies cavort overhead, Ginny tried hard not to think about just how many more ghosts there were this year. She certainly didn’t think about the fact that she recognized several of them.

All in all, there was every reason to celebrate. Yet Ginny’s appetite had disappeared, and what food she’d tried to eat tasted like ashes on her tongue. Even after her conversation with Luna, the emptiness had lingered like a maelstrom in her chest.

“Ginny?” said a voice by her side. She turned to see Neville watching her with worried eyes. “Your stew is getting cold.”

Sighing, Ginny pushed the bowl away. “I hope the house-elves won’t take offence.”

“They won’t. But Madam Pomfrey might have something to say.” He bit the head off his chocolate frog, and rolled his eyes. “For that matter, so would I. And Luna…and Hermione.”

“Alright, alright.” Leave it to Neville Longbottom to see through someone else’s nonsense. Ginny was inwardly relieved that it hadn’t been Hermione calling her out. She’d already been doling out advice with the rapidity of a duel since term had started. And while Ginny was grateful for the presence of her friends, on days like today, she wanted nothing more than to hide her problems behind an invisibility cloak.

Luna and Hermione having ventured to Hogsmeade, Ginny had breathed her malaise in a little easier. But of course, nothing got by Neville.

After a moment of watching her like an owl, Neville said, “I just want to help.”

“I don’t think anyone can.” Ginny gazed over the feasting students. If Luna hadn’t been able to banish these things, then what on earth would? Images of the Great Hall strewn with rubble filled her mind like fog. To think, six months ago, bodies had been laid on the ground where people were now eating and talking merrily.

Neville snapped his fingers under Ginny’s nose. “Oi!” He sounded oddly like Professor McGonagall. “Don’t start going down that road, Ginny.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can. Look, I know I’m not Harry, but—

Ginny got to her feet. “I’m going for a walk,” she said darkly. Her heart had started to pound like a war drum at the mention of Harry’s name. She wouldn’t get into any kind of argument here—and certainly not with one of her best friends.

In an attempt to show Neville that her irritation had nothing to do with him, she gave a small smile. “Smuggle some of this lot for me.” She gestured to the pile of sweets, and then hastened away.

The student body became a blur of colour and noise around her. She slipped through the double-doors, and made for the castle entrance, her hair curtaining her face from her surroundings.

Crisp, autumn air wrapped her round once she was outside. She wished she’d remembered to bring a cloak, but now that she was out in the chill, late afternoon air, the last thing she wanted to do was go back inside.

Dry leaves crunched beneath her feet as she walked without aim across the grounds. She’d never say as much to Neville, or to anyone else, but Harry’s absence hurt for more reasons than not having his support close at hand. True, the summer had been easier to navigate: the shelter of Harry’s arms had provided refuge when Ginny’s demons came clawing at the door.

But Harry was victim of his own devils. Ginny had seen as much in the nights when he’d wander, restless, around The Burrow. The ghosts of his past—and there were arguably a great many—were evident in the distance in his eyes, and the rapidity with which he vacillated between coasting on the surface, and drowning.

It didn’t make Ginny love him any less. Looking out over the bulbous mounds of orange in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, Ginny knew she loved Harry more than ever. After all the hands life had dealt him, he still carried on. He was still there for her, and for his loved ones.

Being away from him for two months had taught Ginny a bitter lesson, though: between the two of them, they were dogged by enough phantoms to populate a ghost town. And neither was equipped to exorcise such powerful, tormented memories. Oh, it was all well and good to say that love could conquer all, and Ginny wanted to believe that it could. But she liked to think of herself as practical. She and Harry were two teenagers with scars most adults didn’t suffer.

What kind of life did they stand to build if they couldn’t banish all these shades back to the right side of the veil?

The breeze picked up. Ginny shivered. Soon the sun would set behind the jagged mountains surrounding Hogwarts. All she needed was to be caught by Filch outside after hours…although after living under the thumb of Amacus and Alecto last year, Filch was as threatening as a flobberworm.

Perhaps she could spend the night in the Forest. Daunting as it was, she couldn’t help but crave the shelter of its ancient trees and quiet hollows. With the acromantula’s banished, it was a safer place than it had been.

Running her fingers through her hair, Ginny made for the tree line, and then paused. A majestic stag made of silver and blue moonlight rounded a bend in the trees. It locked eyes with her, then inclined its head and began to canter away.

Her malaise forgotten, Ginny hurried after it. Prongs galloped alongside the Forbidden Forest like a shooting star among the shadowy barks. His hooves made no dent on the carpet of wet, dead leaves, nor did he make a sound in his flight.

On and on he went, with Ginny following, her steps hurried. If Prongs were here, then that could only mean one thing…

The patronus turned a corner. The salty smell of lake brine filled Ginny’s lungs. She skidded to a halt, and followed the white glow emanating from Prongs’ body.

He’d led her to a sheltered spot on the banks of the Great Lake. Pines and wilted bracken walled the secluded nook from the sight of anyone or anything that wanted to look inward.

Prongs walked towards a tree stump, and Ginny’s heart lifted when she saw the very person she’d been expecting.

Harry stroked Prongs’ muzzle, then waved his wand. The patronus vanished, and Harry met Ginny’s eyes, smiling like a crescent moon. “Hey Gin,” he said. “Sorry to drop in uninvited. I was going to surprise you in the village, but Hermione said you’d stayed behind.”

Ginny couldn’t have moved faster if she were on a Firebolt. Throwing her arms around Harry’s neck, she breathed in the scent of him—his skin, and the citrusy trace of his preferred brand of soap. The very nearness of him banished all that had scarred her that day—Fred’s name in that book, her conversation with Luna…what did it matter now when Harry was here?

“What are you doing?” she said, her voice muffled against him. “You’re supposed to be training this week!”

Harry gave her an almost guilty smile. Merlin, but he looked a lot better tan the last time Ginny had seen him at King’s Cross. The shadows under his eyes had dissipated, and the growth of stubble on his face looked more groomed than he’d let it get over the summer..

“I’m not going for auror training,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Why not? McGonagall said she was more than happy to pull the necessary strings for you…” If the Headmistress got wind that Harry had thrown her favour to the winds, she’d probably deduct points from Gryffindor out of sheer irritation.

Harry slid from Ginny’s embrace. Then, seeing that she was shivering in the gathering night, he said, a little reproachfully, “What are you doing out here without a cloak?” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders, and Ginny slipped her arms into it, basking in the warmth and scent.

“I’d be a disaster without you,” she said.

“But a beautiful one.” He kissed her on the top of her head. Then he looked around at the wall of wilderness. “Do you remember this place?”

Ginny frowned. “Er…will you be particularly upset if I say no?”

“It’s that spot we were at when we first started going out. We spent that lunch hour out here alone…just the two of us…”

Heat stained Ginny’s cheeks. She remembered very well. That was the day she’d discovered—somewhat to her disappointment—that Harry had no tattoo on his chest of either a Hippogriff, or a Hungarian Horntail. Not that she’d let her dismay blight that afternoon. 

“It’s one of those things I think about when it gets dark up here.” He patted at his temple. For a moment, that distance sucked the very soul from his eyes. Then he shook his head, and said, “I planned to do this in the village, but I like this better. Here, I want to show you something…”

He took Ginny by the hand and led her to the tree stump. Ginny saw, for the first time, an odd assortment of trinkets, along with a hollowed out jack-o-lantern without any light burning within. The face had been carved in an unsettling leer. That it was dark inside only made it all the grimmer.

“I’m a little lost,” said Ginny with a frown.

“Then let me be your map.” Harry picked up a small chess piece—a knight carved out of wood. “This was the only thing I had by way of a toy when I was living in the cupboard under the stairs.” He chucked it into the jack-o-lantern, and reached for an old piece of parchment. “And this was the Hogwarts letter Hagrid delivered to me…” It, too, joined the chess piece. Harry next stored a manky looking sock, a cork from a bottle of Butterbeer and what looked like a stale piece of toffee into the carved pumpkin.

“It’s all rubbish I found in my old school trunk,” Harry said, brandishing another piece of parchment.

Ginny peered at it. “Is that the register for the DA?”

“Yeah.” He looked at it ruefully. Fifth Year had taken so much from him. Ginny was surprised he’d decided to keep such a memento. Shaking his head, he dropped it into the jack-o-lantern. Next, he held up a small gold vial. “This was the felix felicis that Slughorn gave me. And this—“ He let out a laugh that made Ginny’s heart soar higher than a Quidditch pitch—“was a napkin I nicked from Grimmauld Place.” It joined the rest of the detritus in the grimly grinning gourd. Harry stood back, triumphant as if he’d just slayed the proverbial dragon.

“Is this your way of telling me that you’re a pack rat?”

Harry laughed, withdrew his wand, and stepped around Ginny. His arms encircled her, forming a cage of wiry strength. “Take my hand, Gin,” he whispered, lips against her ear.

Giving him a droll look, Ginny closed her fingers over the hand holding Harry’s wand. She could feel each thrum of his heart, beating like the hooves of his patronus. The night breeze stirred the leaves on the ground, moving like a whisper through the heather and bare branches.

“Together,” Harry breathed. Ginny didn’t have to ask; it wasn’t that great of an enigma. She just didn’t understand what the point if it all was.

She inhaled, and behind her, Harry breathed the same.

Then…

“_Incendio_,” they said as one. Orange light shot from Harry’s wand, so forcefully that it pressed Ginny closer against Harry’s chest. Flames engulfed the inside of the jack-o-lantern, its heinous smile glowing as it consumed the objects within.

Ginny looked into Harry’s eyes, gleaming green in the light of the fire. Luna had said that now was the day when putting the past to rest was just as important as honouring the dead. She wondered if Luna and Harry had been in conversation with each other or if this were some weird act of universal synchronicity.

“What’s this all about, Harry? Not that I’m not over the moon, but you didn’t come all this way to tell me that you’re giving up on being an auror, and to light a pumpkin together, did you?”

Harry took a breath. “I haven’t given up on being an auror. But I’ve decided to give it some time.” He ran a hand over his face. “I need help, Ginny. There’s no point pretending. All that rubbish that happened to me…I feel it every day, and since you’ve gone back to school, it’s been a lot harder to get a handle on.

“So I’m going to focus on this—“ he tapped his forehead with his finger—“before anything else.”

“How?”

Harry sighed. “By going back to the other half of my half-blood. Muggles go to see a certain type of doctor when they’ve got too much going on upstairs. Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell them the exact truth,” he added, for Ginny’s eyebrows had risen in alarm. “I’m just going to knead out the worst parts.” He pointed at the jack-o-lantern. “Tonight, that pumpkin right there…I want to put that stuff where it belongs: in the past, with all those damn ghosts.”

Ginny felt a mad desire to kiss Harry until it hurt. “As if I couldn’t love you more,” she said, her throat suddenly very tight.

“Oh damn.” Harry took a step towards her. “I didn’t think you’d start crying now.”

“_I am not crying_!” Ginny stamped a foot on the ground. “I’m just…you’re amazing, Harry Potter. You know that?” Even she’d been simply content to waltz through the rest of her life with a cloud over her. Here he was again, finding the courage to move forward when he had every reason to fall down dead.

She wiped her eyes, only to find Harry on the ground before her…on one knee.

“Oh Merlin!” Her voice rose to an octave she really hadn’t thought herself capable of being able to produce.

“It’s not that,” said Harry quickly. “Not yet, anyway.” He withdrew a simple golden ring, unadorned and gleaming in the light from the blazing jack-o-lantern.

“A-are you sure? Because it looks like _that_ to me.”

“Your brothers would be after my bollocks if I asked for _that_ while you were still in school. So would your Mum, for that matter.” Harry slipped the band on Ginny’s index finger. “It’s a promise. I love you, Ginny. I want to be with you, and I want to be what you need and deserve. That’s why I wanted to do this with you tonight. Burning my past to make way for the future…for you.”

Ginny laughed, feeling as if the weight of time had been carried from her shoulders by an avenging Hippogriff. Then, without really giving it much thought, she launched herself forward, arms around the man she loved. Harry grunted and toppled to the ground, but the noise was lost under the seal of Ginny’s lips.

“I’ll…hold you to that,” Ginny said in the brief points which air could pass between them.

Harry’s fingers curled into the back of the jacket he’d given her. “Shouldn’t you…go back to the castle…Filch could…”

Nose against Harry’s, Ginny smile could have put that of the crackling jack-o-lantern to shame. She sat up and shrugged Harry’s jacket from her body.

They’d shared one happy hour here before. Who said they couldn’t make it two?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! There are three more parts to this series coming, so stay tuned. And please feel free to leave a comment and a kudo if you enjoyed!


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